


take me to the end

by Anonymous



Category: Nine Inch Nails (Band)
Genre: F/M, Limousine Sex, Quickies, Sex in a Car
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 08:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21051557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "here?" she asks, sounding much more surprised than she needs to be."yeah," he says, hand still resting on her thigh. "nobody will see. nobody will care."





	take me to the end

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this once, chickened out, then wrote it again. 
> 
> Title from "Passenger" by Deftones

Twenty-five minutes. That's how long it's supposed to be before they're at some awards show that they don't care about.

Despite this, they're all tangled up in each other, lips pressed against each other's so close that they can hardly breathe.

It started innocently enough, -- just a quick kiss.

But then she started thinking about how _good _he looked, and that led to her not pulling away. 

Naturally, this was what it all led up to. 

She's in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck. He's holding there, one hand on the small of her back, quietly possessive. The partition shields the driver of the limo of knowing exactly what they're up to, but neither of them can know for sure if he's got an idea. 

Whatever the case, that's not what Trent's thinking about at that moment. He takes his free hand and places it on her thigh, taking advantage of the slit cut in her dress.

He runs a hand over her silken smooth skin, testing the waters. Getting little to no reaction from that, he squeezes, making it clear that he's definitely doing this on purpose. 

As he predicted, that causes her to pull away from him. She blinks before looking right at him, attempting to figure out his intentions. 

When she meets his gaze, she sees the devil in those green eyes. 

He stares right at her, letting his hand wander a bit higher, slowly but surely. 

Fighting the shiver running up her spine, she parts her faded red lips to speak. "Here?" she asks, sounding much more surprised than she needs to be. 

"Yeah," he says, hand still resting on her thigh. "Nobody will notice. Nobody will care."

That last part paints a sly smile on his lips, to match those devilish eyes. 

He leans back in, kissing her softly this time, not pushing as he gives her time to decide. 

Finally, she does, pulling away to glance back at the pulled partition that separates them from the front seat. "You don't think he'll--" 

"I'm paying him enough for him to not say anything," Trent replies quickly, his voice already slightly husky. "And I don't care what he thinks, anyhow."

She considers it for a while, continuing to look behind her to keep her mind clear, because she knows that as soon as she looks him in the eye again, it will all be over, leaving her completely drained of willpower. 

The idea makes her a bit nervous, sure, -- but, judging by the giddy feeling in the pit of her stomach, that might be part of the fun. 

After all, what did some random limousine driver mean to them? This is the rock and roll lifestyle. She's sure that a lot worse has been done behind this partition. 

Mind cleared, she decides that Trent's hand lingering on her leg seals the deal. She turns around, kissing him hard again without warning.

She pulls away, panting already. "Yeah," she says.

Trent grins, rubbing slow circles into her back as that other hand continues to grip her leg. "Yeah?" he asks teasingly.

She groans, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, you asshole." 

Trent shakes his head at her attitude, though he can't help but smile.

He kisses her again before moving his hands to hike up the skirt of her shimmering red dress. Dress pushed around her waist, he allows a hand to travel up her leg once again, this time stopping at the waistband of her underwear. 

Well accustomed to this chain of events by now, she spreads her legs to rest at either side of him, straddling his lap.

Pleased, Trent tugs the silk panties down, quickly discarding them somewhere once she's rid of them. 

"Now," he says, lowering his voice. "Are you gonna help me?"

She nods wordlessly before reaching down, hurriedly undoing his belt buckle. 

Within what seems like seconds, his dress pants are around his ankles and her evening gown is pushed out of the way. They could just get it over with now, but that's not the way things work with them.

Just as he would if they were anywhere else, with any more time on their hands, Trent pauses to run his fingers across her skin, just above where she needs him to be. Gentle. Teasing.

Nerves and anticipation building by the second, she nudges his hand away. "We don't have the time. Hurry," she urges. 

Knowing that she's right, he obediently pulls his hand back, using it to grip her side instead as he shifts slightly against the velvet seat. 

Taking in a shaky breath, he grabs onto her hip as he pushes inside of her. She gasps, turning her face into her own arm to muffle a moan. "Oh..."

"Yeah," Trent breathes again, though he has no idea what he's agreeing to. He squeezes the hip he's holding onto, a silent cue. 

As always, she takes the power that was given to her. She starts to move, setting a slow rhythm. Slow enough to drive them both mad. 

She lets out another quiet, gasping moan, reaching up to grab at his shoulders, digging long, scarlet-painted fingernails into his shirt. Trent just grunts and throws his head back against the headrest, taking note of the feel of the velvet on his neck, then her, even softer. 

After a while, he moves again, squeezing at her hip a bit more forcefully. Time's moving fast, -- too fast. They'll be there before they even know it. 

"Hurry up," he manages from between gritted teeth, snappish as ever. "We're about to have to stop. Can you imagine making yourself feel this good, making me feel so good, but not getting either of us to--" 

"Oh God," she gasps. "If you care so much, you should-- oh, -- help me out a little."

He growls at this suggestion, part genuine frustration, part obeying her request. With that, he dives into the graceful curve of her neck, attacking with tongue, lips, and teeth. He tightens his grip on both of her hips, moving her himself, leaving them to fall into a rhythmic push and pull. 

Soon, her head is coming to rest on his shoulder along with her hands as she quietly cries out. "Oh God, -- Trent.. I'm going to--" 

"Go ahead," he urges. "Yeah... Good girl..."

With a muffled cry into his dress jacket, she lets go, eyes squeezed closed as she grips onto him hard enough to leave marks. 

As per usual, seeing that happen is enough for him to follow her down. The gasp that climbs up his throat soon turns into a noise so feminine, he should be ashamed of himself, before he relaxes, lifting his hands to wrap his arms around her waist, holding her close. "Oh God... Thank you..."

They only have a few moments like that, catching their breath and holding each other close, before he gently nudges her off of him. 

He pulls his pants up, redoing his belt before retrieving her discarded underwear. He hands them to her, causing her to giggle slightly as she pulls them back on, fixing the skirt of her dress. 

Once the evidence is almost untraceable, he reaches out to tuck a few wild tendrils of hair behind her ear before leaning in to kiss her gently on the cheek.

"Five minutes," he whispers. "Then we have to be red carpet ready."


End file.
